Nothing to Apologize For
by Tigerdust
Summary: People successfully escape their destinies all the time. Dr. Monnitoff is about to find that out the hard way. Too bad Donnie's not giving details. Slash pairing.


The last of the morning mists had finally evaporated, leaving the brilliant heat of sun to play across the rocky streets of Paris. Dr. Monnitoff was reading the latest issue of the Economist with his croissant and coffee. It was good to be on a creative vacation. It would have been better with Karen here to discuss the issues, but she hadn't been the same brilliant fire he had known. It was almost as though Donnie had inspired her to be better.

He remembered the short conversation that had transpired after Donnie's death. She was going back to grad school, leaving Middlesex for Stanford. She wanted to go someplace that was thriving, not hysterically gripping to something it couldn't fully understand. He had tried to be sympathetic, nodding and questioning in all the right places. But the one thing he had loved about her had been his ultimate downfall. He lost her mind to that decision.

She had kept his name after they had divorced because they both enjoyed the way it had sounded. The split had been amicable enough, but it had left him devastated. He hadn't been able to be with anyone since then and with all the memories of what had happened. Well, after awhile, a vacation had seemed like the answer and France had just felt right. No one said you had to return from the vacation, did they?

The Economist was thorough and harsh in its criticism of various monetary systems and its own political discourse. It was a great distraction, a way to allow his mind to wander through his vacation plans and cement his goings and trappings for the day. When the waiter came around for a refill, he put his hand politely over the cup.

"As you wish, sir."

The Economist dropped from his hands, sliding down into his lap. That voice was far too familiar. "Donnie?"

The waiter had already moved to another table amongst what Dr. Monnitoff now saw as a brilliant maze. It would take a lot of skill to reach the kid he thought had died in that mysterious jet engine crash. But he knew from the back of the head that it was Donnie. The black hair was distinctive, that flick of the wrist that had driven him insane when Donnie had been daydreaming in his class, thinking about that girl Gretchen.

"Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" The voice cracked without turning. It was still young, the appropriate age for someone who might have left for Paris after faking their own death.

"You can turn around for me."

"I'm sorry if there was a misunderstanding about the coffee sir." The waiter was clearly trying to look as though he was fiddling with something on the pastry tray they were standing near."

Dr. Monnitoff rested one hand on his hip. "If you're not Donnie Darko..."

Donnie turned. "I haven't gone by that name in a long time."

He smirked. "I knew it! How long have you been..."

Donnie shrugged. "Long enough to know that being spotted by you is a liability. I knew eventually someone would notice me from the old world."

"But why...how?"

Donnie shrugged, his neck slouching so that he was looking at his old teacher's brown loafers. "That really doesn't matter. The point is that I got away."

Dr. Bonito wanted to rest his hand on Donnie's shoulder in a reassuring way, but they were both far too old for that now. Donnie was working and living in Paris, clearly not a disturbed teenager any longer. "There were other ways. Tell me what you've been up to?"

Donnie shook his head. "I can't. I'm working another two hours, but I'll meet you in front of the cafe when I'm done. Go and sit by the river and wait for me if you'd like."

Two hours later, the doctor was pacing in front of the cafe and wasn't sure Donnie hadn't pulled another disappearing act. True to his word, Donnie showed up five minutes past their meeting time with a turn of his hand as a wave to one of the chefs. They nearly crashed into each other.

"Whoa! Someone might think you're eager to see me."

Kenneth nodded. "It's not every day someone comes back from the dead."

Donnie sighed as they began walking. "You have to understand that they can't know. Its too complicated."

He grimaced. "It's been five years. Perhaps, a post card at the very least."

Donnie turned, standing adamant on the sidewalk. "They can't know. It would risk everything."

His brow furrowed. "Donnie, you were never this cryptic."

Donnie breathed out a sigh and continued walking. "Sorry. Five years with your head looking over your shoulder can just get to you."

They walked in silence for a few moments. "So, why Paris?"

Donnie looked up at the buildings fondly. "I thought I'd come here and learn how to be a painter. Better than trekking all my way to Italy and learning to paint naked angel babies."

"Doesn't explain how you got the money."

Donnie smirked. "Oddly enough, money can be come by in a variety of ways. Not that I ever robbed anyone. I at least have my pride."

"Ah." _That tells me about as much as when we started_. "So what changed?"

They stopped, Donnie looking up at an awning they were passing under for a less than trustworthy looking hotel on a down slope. "This awning. It made me change from painter to architect. Just the thought of making something real, not that it even has to last forever."

Kenneth nodded, noting the way Donnie's eyes lit up. "Do you have anyone here?"

Donnie shook his head. "No. Just my small apartment and a stray cat that likes to vault his way across the top beams of my sunroof when it is open. I've got some plastic up there now to keep out the rains."

Ken wanted to fill the space of silence, keep Donnie talking. "So, you're an ex-pat then."

Donnie shrugged. "I guess so. It's been a long time since I've thought of it. Hell, it's been a long time since I've explained myself to anyone, professor."

He shook his head. "You're not my student anymore." Donnie smirked in a way that relaxed those lines around his eyes that made Dr. Monnitoff think that this was the same brilliant Donnie, just more grown into himself. "And you're a waiter going to school as an architect."

Donnie shook his head, stopping in front of a semi-crumbling building with an interesting archway that led to an alley up a half-flight of stairs. Donnie climbed a stair, looking back down at his old teacher. "Still trying to get into a school. Seems that an equivalent of a diploma is sort of a prerequisite."

Dr. Monnitoff folded his arms as he watched Donnie ascend the stairs. "So, you gonna disappear again?"

Donnie called back. "Not if you follow me inside."

The inside screamed bachelor bohemian, transcending a lot of cultural barriers. Ratty couch and a loft bed, paints in various stages of drying and a large piece of sheet plastic over some cross beams. The one saving grace was the tilt of the sunlight across the canvas and drafting tables.

Donnie noted Kenneth's gaze across the pages of drawings. "Seems a shame to get rid of them, even if they're not that good."

He shook his head. "They aren't bad. Lacks some skilled training, but that's just one man's opinion." His eyes caught a glance of something in Donnie's eyes and he walked past, toward the back of a closed and rusting door. "Do you mind?"

Donnie gulped but shook his head as Dr. Monnitoff found the self-portrait of Donnie in the nude two years ago. He looked at the shockingly accurate portrayal that ended at the waist. He could see the stripes of poverty and the crawl of struggle all over Donnie's features.

"Things aren't as charming as you were saying at first."

Donnie rushed to take the canvas. "It's an old picture, the place has lots of characters."

"Have you drawn anyone else?"

Donnie shook his head.

"Mind if I volunteer?"

Donnie thought and opened his mouth, closing it just as quickly before speaking. "Why would you possibly want a useless drawing of yourself?"

"Because it was done by you. And if this is the last chance we see each other for awhile, I want to remember that you're alive and doing well."

Donnie shrugged. "It's your funeral. But I've never painted someone...clothed before. I'm not sure..."

Kenneth shrugged. "I'm not your teacher anymore. Just a man on a vacation by myself..."

Donnie cocked his head as he put the painting back. "What happened to Ms. Pomeroy?"

Ken crossed his arms. "Who says we were ever in any sort of relationship?"

Donnie began to fidget, looking around for his paints. "You two weren't very discreet...and..."

Dr. Monnitoff filled the space between them. "You have been keeping tabs."

Donnie gulped. "Just on you and Cherita and..." his voice trailed off as his body moved back as a skittish deer, slightly reminiscent of his teenage years.

Ken's voice had a questioning turn to it. "Why are you so nervous, Donnie?"

"Dr. Monnitoff, it's just that seeing you brings back a lot of memories."

Ken shook his head and smirked. "Donnie, you're not my student anymore. Call me Ken."

Donnie breathed in sharply. "Alright, Ken."

Ken nodded, reaching for the second button of his shirt. "Alright, Donnie..."

He didn't have time to finish the phrase as Donnie walked up and kissed him, just briefly enough to know the two lips had brushed. His fingers stopped, still working on the second button of his shirt.

Donnie shuddered. "Sorry, I just...."

Ken's hands fell away from the button, reaching for Donnie's arms and pulling him into another kiss, this one much deeper. Ken felt himself melt toward the touch, so close that he could hear Donnie's heart thumping. He only spoke when they broke apart. "Nothing to apologize for."

It was clear from the next kiss that Donnie wanted Ken to take the lead. The way Donnie's hands trailed down the remaining buttons on Kenneth's opening shirt and toward his bulge said so much about what Donnie wanted and Kenneth needed. It was true, Ken hadn't really been with anyone since Karen. He hadn't really noticed anyone since Karen. Until now, that had been fine with him.

The back of Donnie's knees brushed against a wobbly table, and he found himself falling back onto the table. His legs hung over the side, his bulge tangible against the outline of his tight khakis. He propped himself on his elbows, watching Kenneth watching him with a just as noticeable bulge.

"What do you want, Donnie?"

"What do you think I want, professor?"

Donnie smirked as Kenneth began to fondle his own bulge. Donnie's hands fell to the clasp of his pants and soon enough his cock was working its way out of the zipper. Ken helped to slid Donnie's pants away before releasing his own hard shaft from its khakis and briefs. Donnie groaned as Ken stroked his meat closer and closer, hovering over Donnie's hole.

"Is this what you want, Darko?"

Donnie licked his lips. "Yes, Kenneth. I want you, need you to fuck me."

Kenneth groaned in his throat a little as Donnie spread his legs a little wider and the tip of Ken's head met Donnie's tight hole. Donnie bucked his knees, capturing the spot on the tip of Kenneth's dick that made him go fully hard nearly instantly.

You've done this before, Ken though as he lubed up Donnie's hole with his own saliva. He slipped on a condom from his back pants pocket before letting his button down fall to the ground. Donnie's skinny form was breathing heavy, anticipating the moment of entry.

Ken's arms snaked around Donnie's legs as he inserted his cock slowly into Donnie's body. As he began to pump his meaty pipe, Ken could feel the vibration from the less than stable table. Donnie's cock bounced on his abs in rhythm, his head turning from side to side in pleasure.

Ken's head tilted in satisfaction, looking away from Donnie just briefly and then back again. He was begging to feel his old professor's cock banging against his hole, thrusting in audible pleasure. This Ken was happy to grant to Donnie over the course of ten minutes. But a man could only take so much before the lust started to give way.

The thrusts came faster as Donnie began to stroke his own cock. He was hard too, grasping to his own intelligence over the shivering thrusts of lust occurring that he felt from Ken's cock to the rhythmic workings of the table below.

"Oh god...Donnie...I'm gonna..." Ken breathed heavily.

Donnie's breathes came in spurts. "Do it, professor. Need to feel you in me."

Ken groaned as his thrusting moved quicker and shorter, causing Donnie's eyes to seem to roll toward the back of his head. Donnie was jerking his own cock hard in his hand, causing his balls to hit Ken's pubes on occasion. This touch, this friction was enough.

Time and breath stopped for an instant in Kenneth's last thrust before Donnie began to cum across his own abs, setting Kenneth off. His knees buckled a bit as he thrust even deeper inside Donnie than before. He could feel every inch of his semen giving way into his condom and it was a glorious feeling, slick with lube and sweat.

When the pumping and the pounding finally ceased, Donnie sat up, finding Kenneth's warm arms eager to take him while his cock finally exited from Donnie's insides.

"How long will you be in France, professor?"


End file.
